


Suits and Dames and Butlers

by Brosedshield



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brosedshield/pseuds/Brosedshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back before he got his start, before he built an empire out of guns, Howie Stark was the smartest kid on the block, and pretty much his only friend was Joey Manfredi (it helped that he didn't have any sisters).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suits and Dames and Butlers

**Author's Note:**

> I fully expect every inch of this fic to be Jossed the next time someone so much as mentions Howard Stark in a Marvel show/movie/comic, but since watching Season 2 of Agent Carter I've been a little obsessed with how Howard Stark became who he is. So my theories are: grew up poor, with very strong ideas of what meant to be disgustingly rich, and then has spent his life alternatively defying those and living them to the hilt. But really, what does that look like?
> 
> (un-beta'd, sorry in advance, I just wanted to get this UP so much...)

The fella looked real swell, like a movie star or something, stepping into the shadowed pub in a neighborhood he clearly didn’t belong. Howie Stark (fourteen and too damn smart, with grease under his fingernails) looked him up and down real well (he was taking pointers, see, for when he had money to spend on suits and dames, and butlers, and all that shit), and didn't try to hard to hide it.

Howie got ready to run, though, when the fella took a look over the place, and then headed straight toward him. He didn't look like he had a sister (at least not one in this neighborhood) but you couldn't always tell.

“You Howie Stark?” The fella asked.

“Yeah, that's me,” Howie said, puffing out his chest (this also had the effect of disguising his braced legs and fisted hands, ready to fight or run).

“Maximilian Talbot,” the fella said. “Work for some very important people, and I heard you were dangerous.”

Howie sagged. “You sure you ain't looking for Joey Manfredi? I mean, I'm better looking than him, and I'm smarter than pretty much everyone but ...folks make the mistake, you know.”

Truth be told, folks didn't think Howie Stark was particularly dangerous, unless they'd been caught on the wrong side of a prank war. Folks came looking for him if their stove needed fixing, or their gun had jammed, or the bosses car had picked up a couple of bullet holes and was making a funny noise (or because they had a sister). He could take a punch, but in a fight Howie Stark was average at best.

Joey Manfredi on the other hand, was real dangerous. He'd learned how to cook from his Pa (a middling enforcer for the Family, may he rest in piece), and how to handle a knife from his Ma. He had old fashioned ideas about how to treat a dame, and how a fella ought to treat his inferiors and superiors, and tended to hit first (and make it count) and ask questions if he had to. Howie though Joey was a swell guy, and one of his few friends, but figured he was lucky Joey didn't have any sisters.

“No, I'm looking for you,” Talbot said, taking a fancy pocket watch out of one of the pockets of his fancy jacket. “I've heard you fix things. Think you can get this old thing working again?”

Howie took it and had his multitool (his personal design) in his hand before the fella stopped talking. “What’ll ya give me for it?” He demanded, even as he sat back on his bar stool and popped off the case.

“Depends,” Talbot said. “Think you can make it better?”

A sharp little blade popped out of the elegant pocket watch just as he asked it. Howie gave a little laugh of delight. “Swell,” he said. “Sure can. What would you say to a lighter, maybe a flamethrower?” He grinned up at the guy. “But you gotta tell me what you’d give me for it first.”

“Son,” said Talbot, taking out his billfold and putting a couple folded notes on the counter. “You fit a flame thrower in that thing, and you’ve got yourself a job.”

Howard Stark (only kids went around by Howie) got that job. The rest is history.

~*~

(Years later, Max Talbot screwed Stark out of a chunk of his earliest patents, figuring the kid could take the hit, and had brains to spare. Stark took him for all he was worth on the path to founding his own company, and ended up screwing Talbot’s sister on the way out. Only Talbot ended up surprised.)

**Author's Note:**

> I have tiny ideas in my head for more, to watch Howard advance, but...we shall see. I've been able to write a fair bit lately in unexpected times, so I'll put down what I can, and maybe try to keep posting more :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
